


Him, Her, Them

by cogito_ergo_amo



Category: BioShock Infinite, Lutecest - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, eventual pregnancy, occasional smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cogito_ergo_amo/pseuds/cogito_ergo_amo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Luteces return to Columbia after the events of Burial at Sea Part 2, with the intention of picking up where "The Lazarus Project" Voxophone left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Most chapters will not be Voxophone transcripts. Ones that are will be clearly indicated from the start. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

**Voxophone: Rosalind Lutece, October 30th, 1912**

The about-turn in our mutual aspiration was as maddening as it was inevitable. Until we were together I had never entertained the notion of bringing new life into this world. My work was, as plentiful colleagues have so snidely put it over the years with a puerile wink-nudge, my “baby”. With Columbia I have secured the Lutece name a spot in the history books and Physics syllabi for years to come, though to my mind the greatest testament to my career is my brother. Apart from the cloying sentimentality with which that statement might be conflated, to have found, contacted and transfused a whole person between realities is of much greater significance than manipulating the quantum state of atoms to place a city in the sky.

But in the face of such achievements, we still find ourselves aching for perhaps the least prestigious yet most profound titles in all of human experience; “Mother” and “Father”. We would be giving up an infinite universe of infinite possibilities for the sake of a person who does not yet exist. Even in the field of theoretical quantum physics there is a limit to the leaps of faith one can make going into an experiment.

In my less charitable moments I feel that it is far easier for my brother to commit to the prospect of creating new life. He is not the one who must bear the physical burden of such an undertaking. We are each of us beholden to the physical limitations of our respective sex and so I bear him no resentment for this but I question whether he could fully comprehend the enormity of what he asks.

The business with the girl is finally put to rest and so our thoughts have turned naturally to our next step. My brother and I have agreed to take a fortnight to consider the matter, during which time we will not discuss or even mention it to one another. This is much more a pandering to his needs than my own. It isn’t called a “biological imperative” for nothing, there is no room for negotiation or compromise once the desire to procreate has manifested.

I am quite certain that we have both reached our decision. Thus far, however, we have not stated our positions in definite terms to each other. Perhaps we are both frightened that through some cruel trick of probability we might not have agreed on the same course of action. Once this particular genie is out of the bottle, no amount of wishing will put him back in.

Our self-imposed deadline is tomorrow. Perhaps the next Voxophone I record will be from our old home in Columbia. I cannot envisage what the alternative might be.


	2. Part 1

"Rosalind? Rosalind, are you awake?"

"Hmm?" She turned, languorously to face him "I wasn’t. But now I am. Perhaps we ought to conduct research into the effects of an overzealous sibling wittering into the ear of a hitherto blissfully slumbering subject." Rosalind sleepily caressed his arm as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on her cheeks. "You’ve already shaved, brother? What time is it?"

"It is 6.37 a.m. I woke shortly after five and, finding myself unable to ease back into sleep, determined to start the day. I’ve bathed and made breakfast. Not at the same time, of course"

Rosalind propped herself up on her elbows “what on earth would possess you to start the day so early?”

"Have you forgotten what today is?" He regarded her with such eagerness that for a moment she feared she had overlooked something vitally important. Recalling dates of arbitrary human milestones was much more a forte of her brother’s, though she had resolved to make a concerted effort to improve after waking to a small mountain of gifts at the foot of her bed on Robert’s first Christmas in Columbia, having not prepared a single thing for him in return. The hurt in his eyes that December morning had been motivation enough to at least keep track of major annual celebrations, none of which she had paid much attention to when she lived alone. There had been more than one occasion on which she’d only remembered their joint birthday in time to prepare a gift for him after cards addressed to them arrived several days early. In order to avoid the risk of further upset to Robert, she had discreetly charged one of their laboratory assistants with reminding her of any upcoming celebrations of which she should be aware on a weekly basis.

"I’m afraid that I’ve-"

"Drawn a blank? You only ever get that expression when you’re on the verge of an epiphany or about to tell me something apt to wound. And I’ve never seen you have an epiphany before your first cup of the day." In one fluid movement Robert slipped a teaspoon half filled with sugar into her cup then out again, carrying the silken teabag.

"Apt to wound indeed, though you have the right of it." Rosalind inhaled deeply before taking a sip. "Enlighten me, brother, as I’m quite sure that we’re close to neither Christmas nor Birthday."

"Rosalind, you do realise that today is exactly thirty-one days since your last, ahem, since your last…" she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. It had occurred to her what he was attempting to say but she had no desire to ease his discomfort quite yet. "Thirty-one days since, since…you know, since you" Growing visibly flustered, Robert was making vague gestures towards his own pelvis, then to Rosalind and back.

"Since the commencement of my last menstrual period. Is that what you are attempting to say?" Robert flinched briefly but his softened posture betrayed his relief at the subject now out in the open. "You do realise that if we are to successfully conceive, bear and raise offspring there are countless biological realities to which you will need to become accustomed. There is no place for squeamishness in child rearing."

Rosalind placed her teacup back onto the lap tray then with somewhat more lingering touches than clinical curiosity alone might have demanded. “I suppose they’re somewhat tender but that’s to be expected at this point, zygote or no. Equally, it could be attributable to your ardent ministrations last night.”

"You make it sound as though I’m the only one to have ever been caught up in the moment, would you have me remove my shirt that we might examine the bruise on my shoulder that correlates particularly closely in both shape and size with the bite mark of one currently sipping tea quite innocently not a million miles from where I currently sit?"

"I didn’t hear any complaints from you at the time. Anyway, I don’t seem to be bleeding yet. Which is a promising early sign of course but by no means conclusive. We are all of us beholden to the vicissitudes of nature, better not to raise our hopes too high, too soon."

"But there’s a chance?"

"There’s always a chance."


	3. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert's hopes are high, but Rosalind has to bear the brunt of their situation. Pragmatism is no match for the bitter disappointment of the one you love the most.

Their front door was barely closed before Robert took her into his arms and kissed her, slowly and deeply. He sighed and msiled as he pulled away. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the entirety of the walk home.”

He grinned wickedly as he slid a hand in between them, allowing it to rest for a moment on her abdomen. Rosalind winced slightly and pulled away

"Please don’t"

"Don’t what? You’ve been off with me all afternoon, are you feeling unwell?" His face lit up "Do you think this could be some early mischief on the part of-" in an uncharacteristic flash of superstition he silently mouthed the words "the baby".

"What? No, no it’s not that. Can you…would you please just stop-" She had been dreading this conversation since she had woken up that morning to a ghastly yet familiar cramp in her belly. "Look, brother, there is no ‘baby’." Though she was staring at the floor, she could sense as his expression shifted from giddy to perplexed.

"…what do you mean?"

"I am, we are not pregnant, not yet. I started bleeding this afternoon." Not for the first time, Rosalind cursed their physiological disparities. She had had warning signs, a day or so of subtle physical hints that her first attempt to become pregnant had been unsuccessful. Robert had no such inbuilt warning system, nothing to trigger his intuition that things had not quite gone to plan, this time. All that Robert had had to go on was the number of days crossed eagerly off the calendar and hopes that soared higher than Columbia would ever rise. Hopes that Rosalind hated herself for having to dash, hopes that she hated her brother for building up in spite of her counsel against getting ahead of themselves. But she would make him see sense. She had to.

"But that doesn’t add up, you should have bled two weeks ago, but then you didn’t. Why would there have been a delay if you weren’t…why didn’t you say anything sooner?! We could have taken you to the infirmary, the doctors they…they could have…"

"Robert." She fought the exasperation building inside her, tried to hold it back from creeping into her voice. "The infirmary is for the unwell. Quite apart from how it would reflect on me as a scientist to seek medical assistance for something as insignificant as a late period, the staff there are overburdened enough as it is. Even if there had been something there, which I very much doubt there was, there is no doctor in the world that could have made a difference. If there had been something, which there wasn’t, it would have been perhaps the size of a pea and quite indistinguishable from the usual effluvia."

Robert took a step away from her, his expression now a mixture of hurt and anger, his voise raised and starting to crack. “But you are NEVER late. Not once since I have known you has your cycle been out by more than a day, how can you tell me that you’re certain it was ‘nothing’, when it might have been the beginnings of…of our offspring?”

"It would have been an insensate cluster of cells, functionally no different from a blood clot or a scab. There is no need for you to be taking this so personally!"

"So for all your assurances that you absolutely wanted us to start a family, as soon as the possibility rears its head you’re able to shut it down out of hand? Convince yourself that in spite of the evidence this is just another normal…" flustered, he gestured towards her hips "a normal…one of those."

Something inside of her snapped, taking the last of her patience with it. “For god’s sake, Robert, what do you want from me? Wailing and gnashing of teeth? Prayers to our dear departed Prophet that he might see fit to bless us with an instant miracle child the way we did for him? Or perhaps you’d like for me to don my mourning dress every time I bleed, that all those we encounter might weep with us for my poor, unfertilised ovum?”

"I’d like you to stop being so bloody flippant for a moment and perhaps do me the courtesy of allowing me the opportunity to make sense of the situation. And to make my peace with your apparent indifference to whether or not we succeed in creating a life."

"And if we do conceive, what then? Is this how it’s going to be? Temper tantrums whenever you feel I’m not holding myself sufficently to account for the mutability of my reproductive organs? I’m not sure I’m entirely on board with our attempts to bring a child into the world if I’m expected to tolerate your petulant regression into the bargain."

"Oh yes, I’d quite forgotten that you have a monopoly on personal sacrifice in this partnership."

"And what, precisely, do you mean by that?"

"You already know, precisely, what I mean by that."

"After all of this time together and now is the point at which you decide to bring it up? As I recall, you took the decision to cross that first tear readily. It was a leap of faith for both of us-"

"For both of us?! Rosalind, I gave up everything!"

"And in return I gave everything to you! You made a decision, enthusiastically and without hesitation. You do not get to hold that above my head as though I were some kind of manipulative tyrant just because I am not prepared to treat a slightly delayed physiological occurrence as some profound loss."

"Well I’m delighted to learn that my feelings on the matter are null and void to you."

"There IS no ‘matter’ about which to have feelings, how else can I put it to make you understand?"

"So you ARE denying me the right to be disheartened?"

Unwittingly they each mirrored the other as they threw up their hands in exasperation.

"You are being IMPOSSIBLE, I’m going to take-"

"A bath"

"A walk"

Robert pulled his jacket from the rack with such force it was still teetering precariously as he slammed the front door. Defeated and tired, Rosalind made sure to steady it before making her way upstairs.


	4. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robert and Rosalind resolve never to go to bed angry.

The lights were still on by the time he returned. Robert found his sister asleep in the living room, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. He wondered briefly whether she had been reading for business or pleasure, until he spotted the weathered copy of Frankenstein dropped by the side of the couch, her favourite novel ever since she was a child. Carefully he sat cross legged on the floor by her side.

A small scowl passed briefly over her slumbering face, followed by a deep sigh. Her hair was loose and as she fidgeted a wavy lock slipped across her face. Robert went to push it back and noticed it was still damp from her bath. He smiled to himself as he recalled the countless times he had scolded her for going to bed with her hair still wet. Sleeping on the couch seemed the sort of loophole she’d try to argue in her defence. He gently caressed her cheek after pushing the errant strand back behind her ears and Rosalind awoke with a start, though she quickly relaxed upon seeing him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you." She gave a sleepy, dismissive smile and nuzzled her cheek more closely against his hand. His heart swelled with tenderness, a warmth he felt so often in quiet moments with her. "Oh, Rosalind, I’m sorry. I mean, about earlier, not just for waking you up-"

"I know. I am too." She stretched and shuffled back into a seated position, patting the couch next to her, then snuggled underneath his arm as he settled down, stroking her hair as she laid her head against his chest. "I mean I’m sorry for the fight we had, not for the belated monthly Vox Rebellion. That is something, lamentably, over which I have no control. But I had no right to belittle your response. This is uncharted territory for the both of us, it’s impossible to predict exactly what feelings might arise throughout this process."

"While that may be true, I oughtn’t have been so short with you. And I never meant to blame you for the outcome of our first attempt."

"You do know that I am disappointed too, don’t you? Though I knew it was unlikely to happen on a ‘first attempt’, when it became apparent that things were delayed, I allowed myself just the smallest glint of excitement, of hope. But I also need you to understand that expecting me to mourn for some hypothetical zygote every time I happen to shed the lining of my uterus is a fool’s errand. I haven’t the energy and frankly neither of us has the time."

"I was just so sure, we wanted this so much." She could hear his words resonate through his chest with a deep, soothing bassiness that made Rosalind feel very small and very safe curled up against him. She snaked her arms around his waist and held him tightly.

"It will happen, I am certain. It’s not unusual for prospective parents to make attempts for a year or more before they succeed. We must remain patient and positive. Some things are unknowable."

"I had hoped that if anybody could get it right the first time, it would be ourselves. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying."

"Well, I can assure you that there will be plenty more of that to come. But it’s poor practice to expect immediate success from every endeavour, brother. And to think of all the times you’ve exclaimed your skepticism at my attempts to intuit future events!"

"I suppose my turn at being the fatalist was long overdue" He sighed and kissed the top of her head. "You know, I think that this evening is the longest we have spent apart since-"

"-since you first went to retrieve Mr DeWitt. I know. And it was utterly rotten, every second of it, just as it was then. I may have to insist we put a two-hour maximum time limit on our separations."

"Whilst I appreciate the romance behind your suggestion, I daresay it would be somewhat impractical to enforce…"

"It would have been less practical during our time scattered about the probability space."

"That’s probably true. Nonetheless, short of suturing ourselves together I doubt we could commit to such proximity in perpetuity"

"Perhaps a simple agreement instead, that no grievance be left hanging between us. We reach a civil conclusion rather than flouncing."

"Well I mightn’t go that far, your flounces tend to have a very distinct hip wiggle to them of which I’m rather a fan…"

"Am I to take your waggish rejoinder as tacit endorsement?"

If his smile as he gently tilted her chin up to face him wasn’t answer enough, the gentle kiss that followed would suffice.


	5. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Voxophone chapter, Rosalind explores the fears she cannot bring herself to raise with her brother.

**VOXOPHONE - R Lutece, April 17th, 1913**

My brother has been far less patient than I and has taken the continued fruitlessness of our endeavours far more deeply to heart than I might have anticipated. His thoughts are often preoccupied with catastrophic scenarios that would preclude any chance of successful conception. He has applied a twisted logic to the situation, fretting that perhaps his transition to my world may have rendered his gametes useless. He refers to the sterility we observed in Comstock and though our exposure to the Lutece field accounts for only a minuscule fraction of the time spent by the Prophet staring into endless tears, Robert will not be talked down. His dissatisfaction has been growing as Columbia prepares itself to celebrate Easter. The symbolism of reproduction, fruition and new life glares at us from every storefront and in more vulnerable moments it is difficult not to see these pastel-hued effigies to fecundity as personal insults, a mockery of our aspirations.

My brother has begun to sow seeds of doubt in my own mind. Not about our ability to conceive, for there is plentiful evidence that it may take many attempts for a viable pregnancy to establish, but doubts in his ability to cope with what he perceives as an insurmountable setback that may present itself many times before the desired outcome is achieved. But as he wavers, I must grow more steadfast. Pessimism never increased the chance of success in any undertaking.

**VOXOPHONE - R Lutece, July 6th, 1913**

I have recently sought counsel on matters of human reproduction from colleagues in the Biology department at the college. They have a vast amount of knowledge imported from Rapture, though it is taking them some time to acquire the equipment and understanding required to bring their laboratory up to speed. Given that there is a half a century between where their studies had gotten before contact with the city under the ocean and the wealth of new knowledge this is hardly surprising. There are, however, some aspects of this knowledge about which many of the faculty are rightly excited. They spoke to me about hormones, biological messengers about which we had hitherto only scant information, specifically with regards their role in imprinting and bond formation. It seems likely that mammalian reproduction is governed largely by these substances many of which they have been able to isolate from the blood of laboratory animals and themselves. They also explained to me the indicators of viability in male gametes, factors which were easy to observe at home with the use of a microscope. Robert was skeptical at first but upon examining his own spermatozoa he seemed both reassured at their vigor and rather amused at both their appearance and behaviour.

The acceleration of their knowledge has also led to the establishing of a new school of learning within their remit, that of obstetrics and midwifery. This has been much to the chagrin of our city’s Surgeon General who is quite set in his ways on matters of childbirth, but the new school claims its practices will help to reduce both maternal and infant mortality along with allowing for a less traumatic experience of delivery overall. Who can say how long it may be before I shall be able to call upon their services, but it is certainly reassuring to know that this provision exists, when the time comes.

**VOXOPHONE - R Lutece, September 19th, 1913**

My brother stopped his diligent observance of the calendar some weeks ago, though as his attention has lapsed, mine has increased. I had never previously taken such a deep interest in my own biological processes over the course of a month. It is certainly not a matter that has ever seemed appropriate to discuss. The strain is showing in him and there seems little that can be done to soothe him. He has taken the lack of a pregnancy thus far as something of an albatross about his neck, his remorse for everything that we gave up to travel this path growing with each fruitless month that passes. He seems quite in denial that this was a decision I made willingly. It was not a choice made easily or in haste but it was absolutely driven as much by myself as by him. For the time being, I must continue to reassure him that under no circumstances will my devotion to him falter. As much as we both ache to cradle our progeny in our arms, we are quite complete in ourselves as a pair.


	6. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas 1913 and a snapshot of domestic bliss. Or as close as the Luteces ever get to it.

"Robert, Robert are you awake?"

"Hmm…not today mother, I’ve to collect my tailcoat from the haberdasher"

"Brother, don’t you want to see whether Father Christmas visited us?"

"Father…father Chr…" his eyes snapped open, alert and jubilant "It’s Christmas, Rosalind!" she couldn’t help but laugh as he practically bounced out of bed. It was the happiest she had seen him in months. Before Robert had moved over to Columbia, Rosalind had rarely paid attention to the holiday. She would attend the Prophet’s morning mass as was expected of public figures, sometimes she would call in on lab employees to personally deliver their seasonal bonus payments and was always cheered by their gratitude, but the day hardly felt different from any other, not since she had been a very young child.

She observed the childish exuberance with which Robert tore into his stocking. The contents were much the same as previous years, the traditional tangerines, spiced dates and nuts, a packet of his favourite caramels and a newly-minted Silver Eagle. He would carry this coin with him for the whole year, always in his breast pocket, ready to settle any binary disputes arising between them. The previous year’s coin was always placed in the collection plate as part of their contribution during mass. Even Robert could not offer a satisfactory explanation for this quirk of his behaviour, he wasn’t much more prone to superstition than his sister, but the habit was now an established tradition for the two of them.

After their stockings, they bathed and dressed together in preparation for Christmas breakfast and gift giving. Another concession Rosalind had been willing to make for her brother was the selection of their Christmas waistcoat and tie. Although they chose the items in secret, each year without fail they ended up with practically identical designs. This year the waistcoats were a red and gold jacquard, their ties embroidered with a merry robin redbreast. Robert snuck up behind her, catching her briefly scowling at the frivolous tie. She felt a playful tap on her behind “What have I told you about pouting at Christmas?”

"That it should be reserved only for Brussels sprouts or a particularly unfunny motto in the crackers?" She grabbed his pristinely knotted neckwear with deliberate roughness, pulling him towards her as if for a kiss, her lips instead coming to rest by his ear with a playful whisper "And what have I told you about arriving for breakfast with your tie all askew?" She allowed herself a satisfied smirk at the flustered pinkness rising in his cheeks, then darted downstairs before he could compose himself to respond.

Her gifts to him included a bottle of a particularly excellent brandy and a box of his favourite cigars, but Robert’s most appreciated gift by far was a large, leather-bound album into which Rosalind had placed hand-written transcripts of every conversation they had had using the original Lutece particle as a morse code relay. Next to each hastily-scribbled flashcard of dots and dashes she had written a translation into plain text. Hundreds of messages in chronological order, she had spent hours upon hours lovingly piecing it together and had relished every moment. It was as much a gift to herself as to him. Robert was completely and immediately engrossed in perusing it, so much so that he hardly noticed Rosalind summoning her resolve until she spoke.

"Brother, I don’t mean to interrupt your reverie, but I fear I shall lose my nerve if I don’t give your final gift to you in the very close future." Rosalind could feel her body expressing physical signs of nerves and inwardly chastised herself for it "This one…this did not lend itself to being giftwrapped with a bow" She handed over a slightly crumpled envelope and huddled closer to him, pulling one of his arms around her shoulder and crossing her legs over his. "It might all look rather dry at first glance but I can talk you through the salient points if needed"

Robert examined the contents of the envelope, a lengthy list of compounds and their concentrations, ostensibly from a urine sample. The paper was similar to results charts used in the laboratories for which he and Rosalind were responsible, but some of the substances listed were unknown to him. An inscutably and bizarre Christmas gift. “Forgive me, but this isn’t ringing any bells. I see that it’s the results of a uranalysis but save for the few components I recognise, I’m struggling to identify the significance.”

"Look here, brother. What do you suppose this means?" She pointed to one particular result that had been underlined several times.

"…hCG? I don’t believe I’m familiar with the term."

"Human chorionic gonadotropin. It’s a hormone, a biological transmitter produced and regulated by a system of glands and nodes within the body. One of the teams I invited through from Rapture are quite fascinated by them. Discoveries at which it might have taken the native Columbian teams decades to arrive have been taking place with astounding regularity, invaluable insights into how the mechanisms of the body may be influenced or controlled by chemicals secreted throughout the endocrine system."

She paused, then a slight raise of the eyebrows from Robert urged her to continue.

"hCG appears to play a role in human reproduction and has only ever been detected in very particular circumstances. The levels you see here are indicative of a gestating embryo in a healthy human female." She took his hands. "Did you know, brother, that today is exactly seventy-one days since the commencement of my most recent menstrual period?"

"…is this your way of telling me that you are-"

"-that we are-“

"We are…we’re…oh, Rosalind!"

The catch in Robert’s voice was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Robert flung his arms around her with joyous abandon as they held each other, tears, kisses and laughter mingling into one.

"I take it that this is welcome news?"

"The most welcome. I cannot even begin to describe-"

"There is no need to describe, brother. You know that I feel entirely the same."

"Of course. And you are quite certain?"

"As certain as one can be at this point. There’s nothing else that might account for the cessation of my monthly cycle, nor the presence of hormones only thus far detected in expectant mothers. I shall be reporting back to the team from Rapture for frequent assessments of hormone levels, along with regular visits to our general practitioner as our pregnancy progresses."

"How are you feeling currently? Is everything…wait, you were quite ill just over a week ago, that wasn’t the flu at all, was it? How on Earth did I not realise what was going on?"

"Because you know better than to extrapolate from incomplete data? Or because it’s early days, even assuming we conceived precisely as ovulation took place, that wouldn’t put it at more than eight weeks, and you stopped scrutinising the calendar months ago? Or that we are both exceptionally adept at applying the utmost discretion when the situation calls for it? It was not my intention to purposefully mislead you, even by omission. But I had seen with every passing month how hope so cruelly gave way to grief within you when I would start to bleed. The stakes were too high, I could not bring myself to say anything that might have raised your hopes until I had assurance that this was not another false start."

"You needn’t feel you have to justify your delayed disclosure, I was merely expressing disappointment in myself that it had escaped my notice. Though I’m loath to focus on such things now, I know that you have also felt a distance between us over the past few months. Had I been more attentive, and less pessimistic…"

"Hush, brother, there’s no need to rehash this. Especially not at Christmas and extra-especially not now that we should be looking to the future. I had had an inkling from the very earliest stages, something for which I cannot account in any reasonable terms. A feeling, perhaps you’d call it instinct. It wasn’t until the hormone tests that I allowed myself much space to contemplate the situation and how I might go about telling you. By then we were barely a fortnight from today so there seemed a certain poetic aptness in keeping mum."

"Pun intended?"

She smirked “Quite.”

"But you are alright, I mean, the discomfort so far, is it manageable?"

"Manageable, though unpleasant. I have been feeling rather more tired than I might have expected. And in spite of their role not commencing for months, my breasts have gotten dreadfully sore. I’ve observed that anything malodorous or strongly scented seems to make my stomach turn rather violently but all of that is, I’m assured, perfectly normal and to be expected in the first three months. All being well, the worst of it should have passed by the end of January."

Robert extended a hand as if to touch her midriff, but hesitated “May I…”

"May you what? Touch me? Brother you know that’s not something for which you need to seek permission. If anything, I’d say that my current state is evidence enough that we are somewhat beyond formal requests for contact."

Robert shuffled downwards on the couch and stared intently at her tummy for a moment, as if scrutinising for any indication of maternal blossoming, before planting a kiss just below the waistband of her skirt. She rolled her eyes and chastised him gently “it’s a little soon for all that, don’t you think? There’s nothing to see and certainly nothing to feel yet.” She fidgeted slightly with the lower buttons of her waistcoat and settled back onto the couch “Well, perhaps an inch or so on the waistline, but that could just as easily be attributed to festive indulgences.”

"Perhaps nothing to see, but Rosalind, our progeny is in there! Our child. How can something that should be the most mundane realisation of the biological imperative feel this profound? I’ve known of its existence for only moments but already I’m consumed by love for this soon-to-be-person."

"Well, I’m not sure it quite meets the requirements of being an actual child, as of now it’s just an embryo, but yes" her tone softened and she stroked his hair, then cupped his head in her hands. Though she tried to maintain an air of poise, she couldn’t fight against the wave of pride and love she felt as she watched the man she adored transfixed in wonder at the prospect of their offspring.


	7. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rosalind learns that the undergarments of 1913 were not designed for the comfort of women in the family way.
> 
> Also, smut.

"Pull harder! You're not going to break me!"

"I’m being as firm as I am able, are you certain that this is still the correct size?"

"No I’m not bloody certain, since this cretinous offspring contrived to increase every contour on my torso at such a rate!"

"If I make this any tighter, you’re going to asphyxiate."

"Ugh" Rosalind heaved as deep a sigh as she could manage. "To hell with this wretched thing, untie me." His fingers worked with practiced swiftness, unpicking the cords he had so recently laced. "If I ever learn who first came up with the instrument of appalling torture that is the corset, I should take great pleasure in throwing them out of Columbia with my own hands. Preferably over an active volcano."

"If you’d like me to arrange for the seamstress to visit the house, I’m certain she would be most accommodating. I’m sure she has plentiful experience in adjusting clothing for the comfort of women in your condition."

Her glare swiftly assured him that his advice was neither wanted nor needed. Even dressed in only her chemise, with her hair loose about her shoulders, she could command a menacing figure if she so chose. “Stoke the fire.” In lieu of a “please” she flung the offending corset at him and stormed over to her bureau. In one uncompromising move, she wrenched the uppermost drawer from the unit and upturned it on their bed, scattering undergarments all over the covers.

"Rosalind!" He hurried forward and tried to wrestle the drawer from her "That’s solid mahogany, it weighs almost half of what you do, you shouldn’t be exerting yourself so explosively!"

"Hm, funny you should have appeared on this side of the room, I could have sworn my brother was stoking the fire on the opposing wall. As. Instructed." She had grabbed as many articles as her arms would accommodate and started towards the fireplace.

"Rosalind, just what exactly are you intending to…oh good lord" he managed to catch one of her wrists but not quickly enough to stop her from hurling a choice selection of corsetry and hose into the flames. "Have you gone completely mad?!" Undeterred by his attempt to restrain her she grabbed another handful of underclothes and made to fling them into the hearth. "ROSALIND!"

He hated having to raise his voice, but it caught her attention. She threw the rest of her clothing to the ground and flounced down amidst them with a disgruntled huff. Robert checked the fireplace. None of the items in there were salvageable but they were also not placed in a way likely to set the rest of the room on fire. Small mercies, he supposed. He positioned himself behind her, his chest flush against her back, his chin resting on one of her shoulders. She was making a gallant effort to fight back tears of frustration. He kissed her gently on the cheek and resolved to diffuse some of her tension. “Well, at least now we know that burning silk smells godawful. Not often have we made such a significant discovery before luncheon.” She conceded a laugh and pulled his arms around her, clasping both of their hands to her belly.

"I never liked that one anyway. Too frilly about the bust, never could quite get the line of my shirt correct over the top of it."

"For my part, I must confess to being relieved that the ivory one with the emerald green trim survived. That has long been a favourite of mine. I felt a little swell of sadness every time it was covered by outer layers as you dressed."

"And a rather larger swell of joy at watching me disrobe at the end of the day, if I recall correctly." She fidgeted deliberately, her hips rocking between his thighs for a second. Robert tried to ignore the almost immediate increase of warmth and pressure her teasing elicited in him. "Frankly, I shouldn’t feel much by way of disappointment if I never had to be laced into one of those bloody things again. I will speak with the seamstress, but not for adjustments. I intend to discuss alternatives. I noticed an advertisement for an entirely new garment recently, it only extends down as far as the middle of the ribcage and emphasis is on supporting the breasts rather than restraining the waist."

She pulled the front of her chemise away from her to examine her naked breasts. “I’m quite staggered by how much larger they’ve become, it would be of great use to have a garment that might offer support up here without the squeezed middle to which I’ve become accustomed.” She paused and once again rocked back slightly with her hips.

Between her chemise and his nightshirt there was no concealing his arousal from her. “Still thinking about the ivory one with the emerald trim, brother, or is this a reaction to my objective recounting of the physical ravages of maternity? I’m not sure which I’d consider to be the more frightfully deviant.” She reached behind her and loosely, teasingly grasped his manhood. A shuddering sigh came from Robert in response as he started to trail kisses along her neck, beginning behind her ear.

"Something I have observed in recent weeks, something to which I have found no reference in th- oh, oh yes, there, please, don’t be afraid to use your teeth - in th…the literature" She pulled away from him for just long enough to turn around and kiss him back, fully and deeply, as he pulled her gown over her head to kiss and caress her recently-engorged breasts with reverent lust. "Nowhere have I found reference to increased appetites of a more carnal nature in expectant mothers. Yet I find myself increasingly desirous with every day that passes at present." Rosalind pulled up the front of his nightshirt and knelt astride his lap, allowing him easier access to nuzzle and nip at her chest. "Now why do you suppose that might be?"

"At this precise moment I could not care much less, as you may be aware there’s something far more compelling demanding my attention." He could feel the warmth and wetness of her cunt, poised torturously close to his manhood.

Rosalind pulled back from him slightly with an expression he recognised well; that of the deliberate tease. “Not even one vague little hypothesis? You disappoint me, brother.” She sat back on her haunches and folded her arms primly across her chest. With a yearning groan, Robert attempted a reply.

"Alright, alright, you infuriating little trollop. Perhaps…perhaps a combination of the general sensibilities of a repressive society coupled with unspoken squeamishness about and a lack of research into the finer points of female sexuality, particularly during such an objectified time as pregnancy, prevents investigation or discussion of this matter in a curious or frank manner?"

"Quite so. Well reasoned" she kissed him "and very well spoken" she slowly eased herself down, allowing him, inch by inch, to move into her yearning wetness. She draped her arms over his shoulders, whispering urgent, delicious invocations as he began to thrust.


	8. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalind has an unusual gift for Robert on Valentine's Day (it's not sex).

Valentine’s Day fell on a Sunday which pleased them both. They had planned to spend the day at home, a rare spell of slovenly indulgence that Robert had commenced by preparing a light breakfast in bed.

Though its frequency and severity had lessened after she had reached the beginning of her fourth month, Rosalind still tended to be afflicted by nausea upon waking, so he had provided only tea and scones. By the time he returned with the tray, Rosalind had propped herself up in bed and left a small, gift-wrapped package on Robert’s side of the bed.

"I know we were not planning on gifts this year, but I hope you’ll understand why I decided to make this exception."

Robert placed the breakfast tray down atop a chest of drawers then proceeded to tear away the paper with characteristic neatness, folding it and setting it aside before removing the gift from its presentation box. “It’s a handsome little thing but what exactly is it for?”

Rosalind had a satisfied half-smile on her face as she watched her brother examining the elegant wooden implement, polished to a smooth gloss. It was flared at both ends, one somewhat larger than the other, and Robert turned it over and over in his hands, puzzled.

"It’s called a Pinard horn" Rosalind took the device from him as he climbed back into bed "you hold this end to your ear as the other is placed against my abdomen. All being well, this should allow you to locate and listen to the fetal heartbeat. I consulted a midwife at the infirmary who advised a heartbeat should be identifiable via the Pinard from approximately fourteen weeks, a date we have recently passed. Care to try it?" Rosalind pulled up her nightshirt, exposing her belly. "Don’t look so surprised, the device simply isn’t as effective through clothing"

"Though I find the prospect of hearing our unborn child thrilling I cannot help but suspect there is manipulation behind your motives, being as you must disrobe for me to utilise this gift and taking into consideration your recently increased…appetites."

"I would have hoped, brother, that on Valentine’s day of all days I shouldn’t need to employ guile or trickery to seduce you if the mood were to take me. But if you feel that the appearance of my bare, pregnant midriff will ignite your ardour to an unmanageable extent, you are more than welcome to avail yourself of the patients in the Finkton infirmary to listen instead to the grumbling bowels of constipated dock workers. Though even if you were to set off now it’s unlikely you’d be back in time for lunch and in my condition it would be dreadfully unfair of you to expect me to set and clear the table twice for one meal." Robert held the horn tentatively against Rosalind’s skin, taking great care not to apply pressure.

"I can’t hear anything"

"Patience, brother, try a more central position." Robert fidgeted, trying to get a closer fit between the Pinard and his ear, as Rosalind continued. "At this stage it should be approximately the size of a lime. Even within the snug confines of the womb it would require some practiced accuracy to immediately locate the heartbeat on a first attempt. And don’t be afraid to apply a little more pressure with the Pinard"

"I don’t want to hurt you…"

"I would have thought that by now you might have realised that I am not crafted from glass." She reached down to wrap her hand around his, giving a firmer press against her skin. "See? I haven’t disintegrated and it’s still perfectly comfortab-"

"Sh, one moment" Robert’s expression of stern concentration softened into one of wonder as he picked up the tiny yet tenacious sound of a heart. The fluttering beats were swifter than he might ever have a imagined a human’s could be, but were steady, strong and unfaltering. "Rosalind, I can hear it! Oh…it’s so quick! That little thing must be, let’s see…that’s over a hundred and forty beats per minute"

"Ah, that is good news. Perfectly within the ranges cited in the literature. It seems she’s coming along splendidly."

"She?" Robert glanced up and winked at her. "Oh no, that’s definitely my son in there."

Rosalind scoffed with feigned indignance. “I shall be certain to remind you of that assertion when ‘your’ son requires attending to in the middle of the night.”

"You know, I could swear the heartbeat quickened ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. Extraordinary." Robert placed a hand alongside the base of the Pinard. "Hello little one, this is your father. I’m delighted to finally be able to hear you. Stay safe and grow strong." A slight crack in his voice coincided with a tear dropping onto her exposed skin.

She had seen him cry before, but not like this. Never in a moment of peace or joy. He had wept times beyond counting in the aftermath of joining her in Columbia. She had spent protracted days and sleepless nights trying to soothe his fits of panic, fear and confusion. Though she would never have described him as such out loud, he had been as helpless as an infant in those early weeks. She had wept too, during the scant hours in which hefty doses of opiate tinctures and topical cauterisation of his nose allowed Robert to slumber uneasily. Weary from caring for him and from transfusing every drop of blood she could spare into his veins, she had sobbed bitterly and called upon a pantheon of deities in whom she had never believed.

Rosalind caressed her brother’s cheek, brushing away one of his tears then twining her fingers in his hair. Robert nuzzled gently into her touch but his focus did not shift from listening to the life they had created together. She felt a deep, tender glow spread throughout her, from heart to limbs, into her extremities and settling around the warmth in her neatly-rounded belly where Robert had placed a possessive hand. She trailed her fingers lightly over his and pondered whether she or Robert was correct about the sex of their child.


	9. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert is concerned that Rosalind may be overdoing things. Rosalind disagrees. One of them is proven right.

Robert held her jacket at arm’s length to keep her from taking it. “Rosalind, you aren’t well enough, I beg you spend the day at home to rest. Have you kept down anything more substantial than a sip of water in the past forty eight hours?”

"I’ll have you know I awoke in the night and ate three wheat crackers, an ill-advised move as that left enough in my stomach to throw up this morning, but they were down for a sufficient duration that there will have been some nutritional gain."

"You know as well as I that that won’t have made in a dent in the amount of sustenance needed for you and for baby, I’d really be much happier if you would consider taking the day off. I thought that we’d gotten you through the worst of your morning sickness by now."

"We. Ah yes, because it was all such a terrible burden for you, wasn’t it?" She sighed and glanced down at the ground, abashed. "I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I’m just frustrated by it all, especially after it had seemed to settle down in recent weeks. I shall try to take it easy at work this morning in hopes that I might be able to tolerate tea and a scone by elevenses." She met his eyes and held her ground. Robert was first to waver, handing her jacket over with a resigned sigh.

"Fine, but I shall be keeping a very close eye on you. I shall be able to take the ten and two o clock lectures myself, I expect you to spend those hours resting in the office."

Rosalind paused at the front door. “I’m not an invalid, Robert, and even if I was that wouldn’t afford you the right to dictate how I might ought to spend my time.” She winced and closed her eyes for a second, holding her stomach as another wave of nausea passed over her. “I’m all right, I promise you. Just a slight hindrance.”

They had not made it much further than the square outside the laboratory when they were approached. They were used to people stopping them in the street occasionally, though they never particularly enjoyed the attention they accepted it with grudging patience as part of their status in Columbia. The attention was usually brief and respectful, if a little indiscreet, and Robert had generally handled these interactions with greater social adeptness than Rosalind. Since he had learned of Rosalind’s pregnancy however, his patience had eroded to a point that he required reminders from Rosalind on how to behave at times. She gave his hand a warning squeeze as a woman a little too old for the exuberance with which she approached bounded over to them.

"Is it? It is! Oh my goodness, you’re the Luteces, this is such an honour! Marjorie, come here a second, it’s the Luteces!"

Rosalind gripped Robert’s hand a little tighter and instinctively folded her other arm across her body “I don’t mean to be rude, but we are on our way to work and running late as it is…”

"Bloody hell, it is them!" The woman they assumed must be Marjorie had pulled one of Rosalind’s hands towards herself and was pumping it with enthusiasm. Rosalind felt too tired, too unwell to attempt to conceal her disgust at being touched without warning or permission, though Marjorie failed to pick up on her discomfort. "I must say, you’re bustier than you look on the Kinetoscopes - oh, I’ve seen em all! - and pardon my rudeness but…" A knowing smirk crept over her face, an expression that blossomed into a grin as she flicked one side of Rosalind’s unfastened jacket out of the way. "Well I’ll be, you’re in the family way, aren’t you?"

Robert caught the stranger’s hand before it was able to further invade Rosalind’s personal space. Rosalind noticed his coldness, a firm and defensive demeanour for which she was grateful. “If you lay a hand on her again, I will personally see to it that you spend the night in a Finkton holding cell to reconsider your behaviour. Madame Lutece has already told you that we are on our way to work. Were you the sort of person who knew how an honest day’s work feels, you might be less inclined to prevent us from doing so.”

"Robert…"

"You will not harass us any further, and you absolutely will not gossip or speculate further about her physical condition, do I make myself clear?"

Marjorie flushed a deep scarlet at his admonishment. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to cross a line. It was just so thrilling to see you, face to face.”

"Robert, please…"

"Well, you’ve seen us now, I trust that your curiosity is sated enough that you will present no further obstruction to our routine, now if you wouldn’t mind-"

"Brother." He felt Rosalind’s grip on his wrist grow loose, her voice a whisper. "I don’t…I don’t feel…"

He had barely a second to react, he slid his shoulder under one of her arms as she swooned, then eased her to the ground. “Rosalind? Rosalind, please, talk to me.” He looked up and frantically around at the small crowd of people pausing their morning shopping to gawk at them. “Don’t just stand there, you bloody fools, get help!”

~~~~~

Robert muttered relieved profanity under his breath as Rosalind opened her eyes. He pulled one of her hands to his and kissed each of her knuckles in turn, then nuzzled his cheek into her palm. “I was so frightened. Thank heavens you’re all right.”

"Your gratitude is misplaced, brother, judging from lingering odour of smelling salts I’d say the credit lies in that little glass vial. The last thing I remember is being harassed by those impertinent strangers on the way to work."

"You fainted. Fortunately I was able to catch you." His tone was upset, almost accusatory "You could have been injured, you could have-"

"But I wasn’t. We weren’t.”

"I told you that you seemed unwell this morning, you should have-"

"Listened? Stayed at home? This is going to be a very long and tedious gestation if you’re going to insist upon monitoring and restricting my every movement like-"

"A bird in a cage?"

"I was going to say a girl in a tower."

She had gone too far and they both knew it. The arrival of the doctor left her words hanging between them, heavy and spiteful. She squeezed his hand gently, hoping its intent as an apology for her brusqueness would be recognised.

"Ah, Madame Lutece, it’s good to see you back with us, you gave your…" he paused, squeamish about selecting the correct way to address Robert

"Mr Lutece."

"Yes, very good, you gave him quite the scare, a good thing he’s looking out for you during such a fragile time." Rosalind bristled at the belittling intent of this words. "now, when you were brought in your blood pressure was rather on the low side and from your pallor I’ve concluded that you may be somewhat anaemic. Usually nothing to worry about, just a little lack of vigor that a few good nights of sleep and a regular hearty meal should ameliorate. Now, your…Mr Lutece informs me that there had been some confusion over your anticipated delivery dates, yes?"

"Well, initially we believed that fertilisation had taken place around the end of October but over the past four weeks I have grown rather more substantially than anticipated so we revised our assumptions to place conception closer to the start of that month. We…there were plentiful opportunities at which it might have taken place."

"Ah, of course, no need for any further elaboration in that regard. The end of October sounds quite right and as for the unexpectedly swift increase to your waistline, I believe we have an explanation. While examining you I located a second fetal heartbeat."

"Wait, second as in…two? Two heartbeats?"

"Why would our child have two heartbeats?" Rosalind shot him a withering "are you serious?" gaze which softened as the realisation spread rapidly in his expression. "Oh good God. Twins." The colour had drained from his face. Rosalind, hurriedly shifted to one side so that he could sit down next to her. The doctor indulged their stupor for a moment before continuing.

"Most parents to be are surprised at the news. It’s only in recent years that we’ve really been able to tell when to expect a multiple arrival. Still, better to find out now than during the delivery!"

"Are you quite certain? I mean, we listened with the pinard barely a fortnight ago and only found the one."

"Hm, well, let me answer your question with a further question. When searching for a misplaced item, do you stop searching after locating it, or continue on the off chance that you might find yet another just like it that you didn’t know you owned?"

Robert raised an eyebrow, but conceded that the doctor had a fair point. Rosalind, still dazed from the news, addressed the doctor again. “So, you are absolutely sure about this?”

"Oh my, yes. Well, unless there’s a third one in there who was feeling too shy to make himself heard today." He chuckled and searched their expressions for a smile in response but was met only with incredulity. "I jest, of course. At this stage any greater number than two would be sufficiently obvious upon examination. You know, twins aren’t so dreadfully rare, there’s about a one in one hundred chance for any expectant parent, although the odds increase if there have been multiple occurrences of twins amongst close family."

Rosalind realised how tightly she was gripping Robert’s hand. She hadn’t registered their fingers interlacing in the first place. She relaxed enough to see the colour return to her knuckles and spoke up. “You know, my mother had non-identical twin cousins…”

"My father likewise, though his cousins were identical."

"Constants and variables?"

"It would seem so." Robert gave her an unsteady smile and kissed the back of her hand.

"Well there you have it! With that history I’d be more surprised if you were carrying just the one!" The doctor turned to address Robert directly, oblivious to the glare this provoked from Rosalind. "Now, this shouldn’t affect the coming months much more than preparing for just the one child would. Just keep an eye on the old girl, make sure she’s eating plenty and not over-exerting herself, no more little performances like this morning! At this stage there’s little need to disrupt your usual routine beyond more rest and less stress, although…" He switched his focus to Rosalind "most ladies of your standing do prefer not to work at all throughout their expectant months, it allows them to focus on more suitable pursuits, such as readying their home for the new arrival, and learning the finer points of mothercraft."

"Ah, now on that we disagree." Robert recognised the danger in her tone, the doctor did not. "There are no ‘ladies of my standing’ in Columbia, doctor. Whilst I shall take your advice regarding rest and nutrition under consideration, as an unwed, female, gravid member of this City’s council of leadership, I do believe I’ve blazed sufficient trails to retain some agency regarding my activities in the coming months. Now will that be all, or have you any more advice about my physical health that you’d rather share with him, in case my feeble womanly brain cannot comprehend an instruction so challenging as ‘eat and rest somewhat more’?"

Dumbfounded for a moment, the doctor looked to Robert as if seeking backup, but his eyes were already averted as he feigned the scratching of an itch on his top lip. It was an affectation he’d developed consciously to cover his smirk whenever Rosalind put someone, generally a presumptuous male someone, in their place.

"I…yes, Madame Lutece. I did not mean to speak out of turn. Let me just write you a prescription for Marlowe’s Tonic, it’s a tincture of salts that should help to keep you hale and hearty henceforth, but otherwise, that will be all."


	10. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an eventful day, neither Lutece is able to sleep. Smut ensues.

Rosalind was staring at their bedroom ceiling, an activity in which she’d been engaged for long enough that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

A slight glow from the arc lamps in the square outside crept around the edges of the heavy curtains, sufficient to identify the features of their bedroom but not in any great detail. Her mind raced, directionless, all around and adjacent to the news that she was carrying twins. She had not yet determined exactly how she felt about it, though she was oscillating with distracting frequency between thrilled and terrified. She felt some reassurance, however, that for the two of them to become four, rather than three, had a certain numerical balance that would suit them.

From his breathing it was clear that Robert had also failed to fall asleep. She turned on her side to face him, he did likewise.

"Twins, Rosa" the room was too dark to read his expression, though his tone indicated amusement tempered with anxiety.

"Indeed. I suspect this is but the first of many sleepless nights our fecundity will inflict."

"Though it’s thrown our numbers advantage into disarray"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, we would have had a two to one ratio. I am quite confident that two intelligent, capable adults might reasonably be expected to succeed in nurturing a single helpless infant through the formative years. But now? Now there shall be as many of them as there are of us."

"Though it’s tempting to wax catastrophic on the matter, I still feel that we should have something of a size and mobility advantage on our progeny, at least for the first few years while we’re figuring them out. And while it’s still terrifying, it seems indicative of a certain sense of pragmatism on the part of the universe. Given our tendency to feel-"

"Incomplete? I suppose it will rather save them the bother of having to create a method of interdimensional communication"

"…for the sole purpose of locating a scientific collaborator who makes a worthy match."

"…I was going to say companionship"

"But that would have been a romanticised fudging of the facts, as well we both know."

"And I thought that you only invited me here for my brain?"

"Well, for an additional pair of hands in the laboratory perhaps. Everything else was extraneous to my needs."

"And yet your current situation is one into which you would have had considerable difficulties getting without my input."

"There’s no need to bring vulgarity into it, brother. Who knows what their tiny ears might be able to relay to their pure, unspoiled minds already?" She pulled her nightshirt up to expose her abdomen, grabbed one of Robert’s hands and placed it against her skin. He kissed her on the cheek, then shuffled down the bed to kiss her again, below her navel. Rosalind fidgeted slightly and muttered a soft "ah."

"Ah?"

"Yes. Hmm. Having chastised you for vulgarity only a moment ago, I’m now finding myself in rather a predicament. It’s the warmth of you, the scent of you, the way you touch me, the way you are about our …it’s having an effect on me that I mightn’t have expected, one that turns my own thoughts towards the vulgar. Frankly, at the moment, if I’m not feeling sick, I’m feeling a near constant hunger. Though not for food."

"Oh?" She could hear the smile on his lips "Care to elaborate?" She took his hand again, guiding it downwards from her belly, through auburn curls leading to her cunt, wet and aching from the strident pangs of wanting him. "I see." There was a tremble in his voice, a slight catch in his breath. "My, it seems you are rather-"

"Ready, brother. So completely ready." she urged, a little more quickly than she had intended, but patience was proving an elusive virtue as Robert dipped a fingertip inside her, teasing, testing, then withdrew quickly. "Please, brother?"

"You’re supposed to be resting" his attempt to chastise was undermined by the faltering conviction in his tone, conviction that wavered further as he felt her hips rocking, trying to take more of him in. He felt her wetness on his fingers, having only barely penetrated her "You’re really quite uncomfortable there, aren’t you?" She nodded, almost apologetically, with a nervous giggle then sat up, quickly pulling her nightshirt over her head.

"Robert, please?" First a plaintive cry, then a whisper "I need you." She heard his breath catch in his throat and the distinct huff he only made when his blood was up. Rosalind chanced a teasing hand towards the waist of his pyjamas, fingers brushing lightly but deliberately against his erection through the silk. With an exasperated moan, Robert grabbed her wrist and pulled himself to a seated position, kissing her with decisive fervour.

"Dammit, I really need to fuck you" he tugged clumsily at the drawstring of his trousers, groaning with relief as it unfastened. Rosalind’s hand followed his as he freed his cock, her fingers circling and stroking eagerly at its familiar stiffness. Robert made to push her onto her back, but she raised a finger in protest.

"No, not that way. Not tonight." She rose to her knees and straddled his lap. "Like this." With one hand she guided his cock inside her, the other she slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. Robert wrapped his arms around her back, trailing his hands slowly downwards from her shoulders, his fingertips digging into her skin. Rosalind moaned softly at the sensation, his hands moving over her body as she eased her hips downwards and settled into a rhythm meeting his short, sturdy strokes from below. She pressed her body more closely to his, their seated position affording them access to caress and explore one another. Their hands wandered and groped in the dark. Robert nuzzled at her breasts, alternating kisses and darting flicks of his tongue around her nipples with gentle, fleeting bites. Rosalind started to manipulate her clitoris firmly with her fingers. She kissed the top of Robert’s head and inhaled deeply, reveling in his scent, traces of soap and pomade combined with faint sweat, tobacco smoke and his skin. At once familiar, comforting and utterly intoxicating. She pulled his face up to meet hers and kissed him again, deep and desperate. "Fuck" she moaned "I’m already close. Ah!" his teeth had dug briefly, savagely into her shoulder and the pain was mesmerising. She felt a frisson run through her body and her muscles started to tense.

"Fuck, I’m almost there too." Robert took her hips in his hands, both supporting her movements and gaining leverage to thrust more deeply, more keenly into her.

"Don’t…move…." two words hissed between increasingly sharper and vocalised breaths, before silence for perhaps a second and a half as her climax reached its peak. She trembled in his arms as her hips bucked against his with near-feral abandon as she came. Her loss of control, her movements, her frenzied invocation of his name as she gave in to her euphoria urged him towards his own. He let go of her hips, wrapping his arms protectively around her as he finished, his words faltering, their remnants forming deep groans as he came.

They sat, spent and entwined, as they regained their breath. Between uneven gasps they exchanged kisses and touches, though the prior urgency had dissipated. They handled each other with tenderness as their bodies parted once again and they lay back down together, Robert pulling the hastily discarded blankets back around Rosalind, then himself.


	11. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the previous day, Robert is irked to discover that Rosalind has not been quite as a restful as she had promised.

When Robert arrived home he was surprised to find the living room empty, though the reading glasses set down on an open tome indicated that Rosalind had been there in the recent past.

He supposed that she might be sleeping in their bedroom and made for the stairs, when the clanging of dropped cookware and spirited cursing alerted him to her presence in the kitchen.

“Rosalind? You’re supposed to be resting, what on earth are-” he stopped as he entered the workroom. One of the smaller desks had been cleared to make way for two place settings. Rosalind bustled out of the kitchen carrying plates of food. “Rosalind!” Robert snatched the dinners away from her and set them down on the table. “You swore to me that you would spend the day convalescing after yesterday! I knew I should have taken the day off to keep you out of trouble.”

"I tried, brother, I promise you, but you would not believe the tedium that can descend upon our home when one is alone within it. I swear to you that I spent the whole morning resting. Shortly after lunch, however, the cabin fever had become such that my options seemed to be either leaving the house or tearing down all of our wallpaper just for the change of scenery. On balance, a brief stroll around the shops seemed the lesser of the two exertions. And it allowed me to gather ingredients for…well…" she trailed off and peered skeptically at the table. “I may have overdone the chops. And the potatoes. But I’m sure the carrots at least should be fine. Shall we?”

Robert pulled out a chair for her, gently kissing her cheek as she sat down. Taking his own seat, Robert was not filled with enthusiasm by the food in front of him. His concerns were quickly reinforced as he bit down on his first taste. “Overdone” was a generous assessment for the near-desiccated mouthful. Robert took a hefty swig of water and placed his cutlery down.

"Um, Rosalind. Whilst I am incredibly grateful for the effort you have gone to-"

"Just spit it out, brother-"

"Oh thank heavens, I’m sorry, but this is singularly inedible."

"Well, I meant spit out that unspeakable excuse for a pork chop rather than the criticism but I suppose the message of both would be the same." She dropped her knife and fork haphazardly to her plate and slumped back in her chair, defeated. "If it’s any consolation" Rosalind gestured towards the kitchen door. "I also acquired dessert."

Robert took one of her hands in his across the table, looking pointedly towards the impressive gateaux resting in the kitchen. “Well, we are adults, both responsible and of sound mind…” Robert rose from his seat. “…I think if we were to examine this scenario objectively, we clearly need to eat something in the very near future.” Still holding his hand, Rosalind followed him as he walked to the other room. “Though it’s behaviour I would not necessarily encourage on a regular basis…” He opened their cutlery draw and pulled out of a pair of spoons. “…we might consider going straight to dessert, just once?”

"An ingenious solution to our predicament though I have to confess that this was not made by my hand. It’s from the patisserie across the square. I tried, I did, but…well" she sheepishly lifted the lid of a cake tin that had been sitting, ignored, on the counter. Robert fought to restrain his laughter.

"…Rosalind, how exactly is it that you’ve managed to craft something that’s simultaneously both burnt and undercooked? Is this some kind of-"

"-exercise in quantum bakery?" her response broke down the last of Robert’s resolve and he began to laugh, but stopped short when he noticed a tear slipping down Rosalind’s face.

"Whatever’s the matter!? Surely this isn’t a proportionate response to a few ruined pork chops and that…that half-baked affront to nature?" Rosalind gave a choked half-sob-half-laugh as Robert pulled her into an enveloping hug.

"I’m sorry, brother. It’s not about dinner. Well, perhaps it is. It’s about everything and nothing all at once. It’s about you and about the doctor yesterday and about these two bloody stowaways I have on board."

"Oh, come now, you needn’t for any of this, there’s been an awful lot to take in over the past couple of days."

"I know, I know. And yet I don’t know, anymore. I can assert quite reasonably how I perhaps should feel about or react to things but that no longer quite correlates with how I actually respond. It’s like some of the control has been taken from me - of my emotions, of my reactions - and I hate it. Our current - my current situation is one for which I haven’t a frame of reference. And it’s all just so messily tied with battles it seems I’ve been fighting for my entire life. I’ve had to spend so long pushing back against the perceived weaknesses of womanhood, constantly subverting people’s assumptions about me based on nothing other than my sex. But my position now is one of vulnerability and weakness unique to my biological reality. I know that this is a joint undertaking, one into which I entered without hesitation, but for the time being the physical burden is mine alone. And I know that if there were some way for our physiologies to be reversed, that you might sacrifice your body for these nine months-"

"Of course, I would in a heartbeat-"

"No, please, just don’t, I have so much that needs to be said and if I pause for a moment I fear that I’ll lose my nerve. It just feels as if all of sudden all of those years of taunting and derision, from the nursery to my own laboratory, to the lecture halls and city council meetings, all of it is suddenly proven right. I feel weaker, I feel fragile and restricted, that my body rather than my mind is what defines me at the moment. That everything I went through - exactly the things that you have never had to go through - to get to where we are was all for nothing.

"There is so much to this that I wasn’t expecting, so much more than just the physical, tangible aspects. I’m frightened, Robert. It’s something I’ve scarcely had time for in the past but since we conceived, so many things frighten me. I’m scared of the love I have for this life inside of me, somebody - two somebodies now! - that I have yet to meet but already know with unshakeable certainty are more important to me than anything else we have already achieved or will ever accomplish. And you! Brother, I’m terrified every time I look at you that some cruel twist of fate will take you from me as suddenly as you arrived, that our child - children! - would have to grow up without their father and I know, I know, there is no rational basis for me to feel any of this but that just frightens me all the more. I don’t know what to do with this utter irrationality, whence it comes or if there is any way of channelling it. All at once it’s as if both my mind and body have ceased to be my own and I’m now just a passenger on this ride. I am me, but I am not myself. Things I might have taken in stride before are now these horrifying, catastrophic possibilities that might contrive to make our children suffer - if the peace treaty doesn’t hold and Columbia is thrust back into civil war, where would we go, would our home still be safe? Where will our children be educated, what sort of people are they going to be? What if we lose our tempers when they misbehave and they grow up resenting us?

"Perhaps some of this is due to those bloody hormones those Rapture scientists so frequently harp on and perhaps these feelings will settle but to me it feels like an unclosable door, I can never un-feel, never un-know what is happening to me, to us right now. We will never not be parents again and I cannot help but feel that - even with a floating city, transdimensional travel, quantum superpositioning - this is the most important thing that we have ever done. Maybe not for the world, not even for Columbia, but for us. And now that feels like the only thing that matters. Our world was once the infinite expanse of all probability, now it exists entirely within the confines of my womb and that is so, so much more difficult to comprehend."

"Oh, Rosalind" Wrapped completely within his arms, she pressed close enough to his chest that she could hear his heartbeat and she wept. Tears of relief, of exhaustion and of fear poured our of her. He kissed her hair and stood firm, arms crossed defensively around her back and he uttered soft reassurances to her. "It’s all right to be scared, you know, but please don’t feel you have to do so alone." Another kiss. "I’m frightened too. To see you feeling unwell or suffering…all of my reason just disappears. Alarming enough in itself. But it feels that there are so many more variables in play now. When you fainted the other day I was confronted with the possibility of losing you - no, I know now it was not a likely outcome - but for me it felt one and the same as the prospect of losing myself. From your retelling of my first dreadful weeks in Columbia I cannot imagine how you called upon the strength not only to survive but to fight enough for the both of us. And I’m sorry if my own paranoia and fears for you might serve to reinforce your concerns about how you are seen, that is not my intention. You refer to the perceived weakness of womanhood but when I see what you have been through to get here, you’re the single most courageous individual I have ever encountered, in this world or my old one. To hell with anybody who thinks otherwise, their opinion could not matter less.

"For my part, I am struggling to set aside the shame that comes with knowing my culpability for what you have suffered for me in the past, and the discomfort of your present condition. But I will fight for you, as you did for me. You may not need me to, or even want me to, but I stand ready."

They held each other, still and quiet, the occasional muffled sob from Rosalind breaking the silence as she was soothed by his presence, until the peace was broken by a ravenous gurgle from Robert’s stomach. Rosalind laughed, an uncharacteristically hearty chuckle of relief as she wiped away the last of her tears.

"I think it might be time for cake."

"I could not agree more."


End file.
